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Valentina’s office is dim when Yelena enters, matching the setting sun spilling over the horizon of the city. The overhead lights are off, replaced by a desk lamp that pools warm light across the polished wood of the furnishings. It’s almost peaceful.
Val looks up at the sound of her footsteps, hands steepling on the surface of her desk.
“Yelena,” she greets. Her head tilts to the side slightly, hawk-like, looking behind Yelena for the taller, hunched figure that usually accompanies her now. “Where’s Robert?”
“He’s staying with me for now.” Yelena says.
She’d left him asleep on her couch back in her apartment, dozing gently with his long legs dangling over the end; she had offered him her bed multiple times, but he always refused, cheeks pink. She had lingered in the doorway before leaving to meet with Val, just…watching. Grateful that things had aligned just so to bring him into her life.
“You know, I set up a room for him here,” Val says, like she’s done them a courtesy. “It has everything he’ll need. Fresh sheets, clothes—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I see,” Val purses her lips and then gestures toward the chair across from her desk. “Sit down, Yelena.”
She doesn’t move, posture stiff. “If this is about Bob—”
“It is,” Val says gently, almost pityingly.
Something about the tone makes Yelena hesitate. She hates it, hates that even now Val still gets to have this control over her, over him.
Val folds her hands, studying her for a long moment before speaking. “You care about him.” She says finally. It isn’t a question. She slides a black tablet across the desk.
Yelena doesn’t touch it, eyeing it warily. “What is it?”
“I’m sure today has proven this to you, but Robert is dangerous. Sure, he looks like a lost puppy, but those teeth of his are sharp.” Val gestures around the room. “He sent a crane through this building. Could you imagine if it was fully operational? Hundreds, if not thousands dead right there.”
“Because of you,” Yelena spits. “You did this to him. You made him this way, with your tests and experiments. You wanted him to be your personal killer. So you can’t sit here now and pretend that you care about anyone’s safety but your own.”
“The difference is that with me, he would’ve been controlled.”
Yelena scoffs, opening her mouth to reply, but Valentina continues calmly.
“He could be destroying your entire apartment building right now because of something as small as a stubbed toe, and there isn’t a single thing you could do to stop him. He’s a liability, and liabilities need countermeasures.”
She taps the surface of the tablet, and its screen lights up, displaying a document. “This is a containment protocol.”
“Long-term stasis,” Yelena reads aloud, words delayed by disbelief. Like a toy put back in the box, the way they’d found him. Her eyes dart from paragraphs of medical jargon to neurological scans. Indefinite sedation, prolonged mechanical ventilation and IV support, 24/7 monitoring.
“He’d still be alive, just…on pause,” Val says. Then her tone softens. “He wouldn’t feel anything.”
Yelena looks up.
“No pain, no fear,” The older woman gestures for emphasis. “Just sleep.”
Yelena stares at her. “You are talking about him like he’s—like he’s a pet you’re going to put down.”
“If that’s how you want to view it,” Val says coolly. “I just want to keep the world safe.”
“From something you caused,” Yelena says flatly.
“Yes,” Valentina leans forward slightly. “He doesn’t remember anything now, but when he does? He’ll spend every day afraid of hurting someone. Afraid of himself.” Her voice lowers. “This would give him peace. Doesn't he deserve that, after everything he's been through?”
Yelena’s hands curl into fists. “You’re talking about erasing his life. Turning him into nothing.”
“I’m talking about protecting it.” Valentina’s gaze holds steady. “And protecting everyone else’s.”
A long silence stretches between them.
Yelena just shakes her head. Minutely, at first, and then more and more. “No. No. Absolutely not.” She stands, kicking the chair back and not bothering to put it right. “If this is the point of this little meeting, then we’re done here.”
Val sighs disappointedly, like she expected this. “Fine. But at least let me give you something.”
She reaches behind her desk and pulls out a medium-sized case, placing it on the desk. Yelena’s brow furrows as Val undoes the latches holding it closed. Inside, nestled on a piece of foam, is a strange handheld device, like a joystick. On top rests a bright red button.
“This,” Val says, removing it gently. “Controls the electrical transmitter implanted behind Robert’s optic nerve.” Her thumb ghosts over the red button. “Recalibrated for error, of course. One press, and it emits a signal that fries that brain of his. I want to give it to you, for the next time he loses control.”
“No one is using that thing on Bob.”
Val hums, amused. She places the control back in the case and then slides it across the desk, towards Yelena.
Yelena doesn’t want to touch it. She doesn’t even want to look at it. But she can’t leave his literal life in Val’s hands. Not again.
So she takes it.
The handle is cool in her grip, the case lighter than she expects. It feels wrong, somehow, like something that important should have weight to it. Like she should feel it dragging her down.
“Good,” Val says softly, almost approving.
Yelena doesn’t respond. She snaps the latches shut a little harder than necessary, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent office. For a second, she just stands there, staring at the case in her hands like it might do something if she looks away for a mere second.
“Think of it as mercy,” Valentina adds, face inscrutable.
Yelena turns without another word and heads for the door.
“Yelena.”
She stops, hand hovering over the handle, but doesn’t look back.
“If the time comes,” Val says, voice calm, certain—like this is inevitable, like it’s already happened somewhere in her mind, “don’t hesitate.”
The silence stretches, and Yelena’s fingers curl tighter around the case. Then she opens the door and walks out.
The hallway is brighter, sterile white lights buzzing faintly overhead. She keeps walking, and Val’s words follow her. Her grip tightens until her knuckles ache.
She thinks of him. The way he looks at her like she’s something steady in a world he doesn’t understand. Like he trusts her.
“Yeah,” she mutters under her breath, pushing through the exit doors toward the elevator. “Not happening.”
The case stays tucked under her arm. She doesn’t open it, doesn’t look at it.
But it’s there anyway, impossible to ignore.